The Fisher King
by Madi Holmes
Summary: This isn't so much a missing scene as a quasi-rewrite of the restaurant scene between Cas and Metatron. More of an expansion based on some really strange personality and morality shifts for Cas for like the 43rd time on this show.


The Fisher King

This isn't so much a missing scene as a quasi-rewrite of the restaurant scene between Cas and Metatron. More of an expansion based on some really strange personality and morality shifts for Cas for like the 43rd time on this show.

There were minute threads of gold and diamonds and sunlight casting about Cas. Love, obedience, order.

Feelings of obsequity threading through him after years of neglect and longing loss. Simply to obey, to live in the loving shadow of another.

To accept the host's will as one's own.

Cas registered most of this as one understood breathing after drowning. He hadn't, he realized, inhaled in such a manner in years.

Naomi had strangled him, forced him to choose her over all else. Right or wrong, the choice was still there to be made.

But Metatron still felt pure, untainted by the sins of Heaven. He could command, and Castiel could follow, to intercede on Metatron's interdict. To return the Host to its rightful place in the universe. To return those remaining to a state of contemplation and humility, to be cloistered in mere benediction. Cas felt this emanate from the other, his sublimeness sine waving through air molecules, carrying promises of peaceful exile. There was no choice here, Cas understood. It ebbed from him. The word of God in all things.

"My friend here will have the crepes," Metaton stated, smiling at the waitress. "As will I."

Cas looked around, realized that they were in a restaurant, "there was something."

"No, Castiel. It is all done. We have already ordered."

Cas looked down at his menu, flipped the plastic sheets. "Desserts," he mumbled.

"Castiel, we are having crepes for breakfast."

Cas frowned, his eyes growing dark, misunderstanding. "But I needed... pie?"

"We need to discuss our plans first. Your orders are already given." Metatron smiled softly.

"Yes," Castiel finally acquiesced. Fell into listening as the other angel discussed, dictated. He took a bite. Tasted nothing. Even the coffee flattened out as his form dilated, fell back against the universe. Two more bites, put the fork down.

"The problem with Naomi. Well, two, honestly. She has exactly one trick in her, and that is to simply do a hard reset and reboot. Basically, you are turned off, she wait ten seconds, and then turns you back on. Hopefully you don't blue screen of death on her. Tape up the eyelids, and upload the patch. It's efficient, but only fixes the symptoms. She needed absolute obedience and devotion above all else, and it made her sloppy. What rogue angels really need is a firm hand and to exist in absolute accordance with our Father. To do this, we need to place everyone back in Heaven, and go back to our primary duty of praying to God. Angels weren't meant for free will. The ability to choose their own destiny. You are a soldier, not a poet. I am a mere archivist, and could never be a soldier. Pretending to be something you are not is foolish and lethal. You will agree."

Castiel felt that golden net of devotion draw tight around him, the bliss of piety overwhelming him. "Yes."

"Good. Eat." Metatron took a bite. Castiel did the same. "It will be a time before we will do so again." Castiel took another bite, the two falling silent as they ate.

Metatron finished, dropped a five on the table. "Always properly tithe your server," he stated. Castiel put his fork back down, the last crepe untouched.

As they were leaving, Cas went to retrieve his bag of food.

"Leave it," Metatron said.

"It is mine, though."

"They are trifles, Castiel. What do angels need of beer and porn? Such things were not meant for us."

"There is food as well. I got it for Dean. And medicine for Sam. He is unwell." Cas said blandly.

"Very well," Metatron sighed. "There is a process in all of this, and I must pick your battles. Something else Naomi never really understood. Patiens est virtutem, and I am very, very patient angel. You know, Castiel, you will have to ultimately give up the Winchesters."

Castiel nodded, understanding.

"Voluntarily, Castiel. For them. After the trials, we won't get to keep our pets. Not all dogs get to go to Heaven."

"I don't understand that reference."

"It doesn't matter. You are willing, of course, to sacrifice all of this. Earth, the Winchesters, even little Jimmy here. To save us all."

"I shall... cross that bridge when we get there."

"No, Castiel. You need to be resolute from this moment on. Enjoy your remaining time here, but remember that this plan is dictated on you finishing. The trials can only depend on you being successful and your ability to return to form. And I will always be here to help guide you through them."

Castiel followed, went on to obey as Metatron led them away. Castiel was thrumming, ensnared in glory of his fellow angel, his will to be done.


End file.
